


Paint Me a Picture

by theauthorish



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Art student Kindaichi, M/M, Nude Modeling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 16:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20659988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthorish/pseuds/theauthorish
Summary: Kunimi and Kindaichi reconnect in college.Kunimi is maybe a little thirsty. (Okay, a lot.)





	Paint Me a Picture

**Author's Note:**

> HAPY BIRTHDAY LYS IM SORRY ITS NOT DONE BUT HAVE A FIRST CHAPTER SO YOU CAN READ SOMETHING!

Akira had been modeling for a while now.

It wasn't something he'd broadcasted, but he'd started it in high school as a part time job because it was relatively easy and it paid decently… there were a few other benefits, but. Meh, he didn't really feel like listing them.

Anyway, he'd been a model for a few years now, doing anything from standing in for art classes or photoshoots for small clothing lines… the works. He knew how to work an angle, how to hide his thoughts, how to play professional and act unruffled even when the eyes on him were less than polite.

Which was, really, the only reason he managed to stay straight-faced when he walked into the art classroom he'd be spending the next few hours in, only to bump right into Kindaichi Yuutarou for the first time in two and a half years.

/////

Here's what happened:

Kindaichi and Akira had been friends from middle school all the way until their high school graduation, and even for a decent amount of time after that. But as time went on, calls got sparser, texts got shorter, understanding each other came less easily...

They lived in cities four hours apart: Kindaichi had gone to Tokyo; Akira stayed in Sendai

They took entirely different courses: Kindaichi had always been artsy; Akira went into accounting. And their schedules almost never matched up: Kindaichi always had time around Akira's exams; Akira was always free when Kindaichi was working on projects. 

It was expected, that they'd lose contact.

Kunimi was here now because his grandmother had asked him to move in with her for a while; when your only surviving grandparent who'd always spoiled you asks for company so she's a little less lonely while she slowly dies of cancer, you don't say no.

So he'd packed up his stuff and transferred to Tokyo to stay with her, and to help her out with groceries and medicine, he picked up a few modeling jobs in the area while he looked for more stable part-time work. 

One of those gigs happened to be at the Tokyo University of the Arts.

Somehow it hadn't registered in his mind that Kindaichi studied here. And that he could very likely be a member of the class he'd be modeling for. In Akira's mind, he always saw the same Kindaichi he'd known from Seijoh, in those awful brown checkered pants and that too-thick white blazer. With that vegetable-esque gelled up hairstyle he'd had for ages.

Faced with the sudden reality that Kindaichi had actually gone to college, just as he had, and that he had changed, too-- lost what little baby fat had remained, pierced his ears, bulked up, and even  _ had his hair down-- _

Well, Akira didn't know how to handle that.

But he could pretend he did.

/////

"Kunimi-kun!" Kindaichi greeted, smiling broadly as soon as he'd finished gaping in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Akira nodded at the stool in the center of the room. "That's for me," he said.

"Oh… you still model then, huh?"

He raised his eyebrows.  _ Duh _ .

Kindaichi laughed, unapologetic, if a little embarrassed. He really had changed-- in high school, he would have immediately started stammering. Or flushed a pretty shade of red at least. Now, he seemed entirely at ease. 

It was way hotter than it should have been. Akira hoped  _ he _ wasn't blushing at the sight of it. He probably wasn't; he'd gotten pretty good at controlling it when working. He felt like he should have been, though.

"Right, right. Dumb question," Kindaichi said, waving it off. "Maybe this is better: how have you been? We haven't talked in a long time."

"I've been good," Akira replied with a shrug. "Moved here recently because of my grandma. You?" He was a little less interested in what Kindaichi had been up to than what he'd specifically been doing to somehow be even beefier than Akira remembered, but… Kindaichi was still one of his closest friends. He  _ did _ want to catch up. Otherwise, he wouldn't have bothered asking at all.

Kindaichi must have known that, because his whole face lit up just a bit. "Great! We had an exhibit recently and it was really cool seeing my work hung up…"

Ah, well, he hadn't  _ completely  _ changed. He was still easy to read, still so earnest. Akira found himself relieved. He wasn't sure he'd be able to handle getting to know an entirely new person, even if he had the same name, shared the same face with someone he used to know.

Kindaichi nudged him with an elbow. "Hey, don't zone out," he chided, just like he used to during their after-practice meetings. Akira blinked at him. "Why didn't you tell me you were in the area sooner?"

"Forgot." It was true. He really had. Nowadays, when he thought of Kindaichi, it was always in a very distant way. He missed him, sure, but it wasn't the end of the world that they didn't talk. It happened. That was life.

He never really dwelled on it.

Kindaichi laughed again. "That's mean, Kunimi-kun." Akira only hummed, glancing around the room rather than stare at the line of Kindaichi's throat, or bulge of his muscles when he crossed his arms. 

What was mean, he thought idly, was how  _ good  _ Kindaichi looked just standing there. Akira was gay as fuck, he knew. He didn't need the reminder.

"Kindaichi-kun, do you know Kunimi-kun?"

Ah, the professor. Akira had met her briefly this morning before coming here. She was remarkably perceptive; she'd read Akira's personality within a minute of talking, and had planned with him to make the job as easy on them both as possible. Akira might have feared her, had he note seen her spook at a leaf brushing her bare arm on her way back to the faculty after their discussion.

Akira turned to face her, dipping his head in acknowledgement. "We were friends in high school." And middle school. And on the same volleyball team. But she didn't need to know their life story.

Kindaichi smiled at her. "We played volleyball together," he added. Like it was important.

Maybe it was, to Kindaichi.

It made Akira have unacceptable feelings in his stomach, so he mushed them down and focused fully on the professor. "Should I get out of these?" He asked, tugging at the fabric of his T-shirt.

"Oh, yes please. The class will be starting soon. There are robes in that cabinet there." She pointed across the room.

Beside Akira, Kindaichi blushed the slightest bit, coughing quietly. "Oh. Is it… that kind of class today, sensei?"

She shot him an amused glance. "Kindaichi-kun, you can say 'nude'."

Akira fought back a snicker as Kindaichi only grew redder. 

"Well-- I--"

"Yeah, Kindaichi. It isn't like we haven't seen each other pretty much naked before," Akira cut him off, making his voice as flat as possible.

Kindaichi waved a hand frantically. " _ Kunimi-kun _ ! Sensei--" He groaned, burying his face in his hands. "He means when we changed for practice. For  _ volleyball _ . I swear."

She laughed, and Akira allowed himself a small smile. "Why don't you show Kunimi-kun where he can change?" she suggested, graciously changing the topic. She was too nice, Akira thought. It was much more fun to watch Kindaichi squirm. At least for a little longer.

"Oh! Yeah sure." Kindaichi's relief, however, was obvious, a soft sigh falling from his lips, mouth curling into a smile. So, maybe it wasn't too bad after all. "Kunimi-kun, this way." He started out the doorway, and Akira followed along easily.

This was familiar, in a sense. The hallways and location were different. The reasons had changed. They'd grown up, too, and grown apart.

But Akira had always followed Kindaichi, even if, sometimes, he did it blindly.

"You don't need to keep doing that, you know," Akira said, when they were out of the professor's earshot. "Using honorifics. We're friends." Sure, they'd been out of touch, but history didn't disappear like that. Certainly not in so little time, in the grand scheme of things.

Kindaichi paused, steps halting, and Akira came to a stop beside him. "You mean it?" He asked, already starting to grin.

Akira only blinked. "I'm not saying it again," he huffed.

Kindaichi positively beamed, but he didn't push the subject; even now, he knew when Akira was ready to move on from a topic. Instead, he only said, "This way, Kunimi." 

They went down to the end of the hall, at which point Kindaichi hovered uncertainly at the threshold of the restroom. Akira pushed the door open and glanced at him, a silent offer to follow, if he wished. He didn't mind, really. 

He was going to be seen either way, what was a little sooner?

/////

After a whole lot of stammering protests and Akira going into a cubicle to change (with an obligatory eye roll), they headed back to the classroom together. 

Most of Kindaichi's class had already arrived, setting up their respective art supplies and easels. Kindaichi went to join them, but not without shooting Akira a small smile and squeezing his shoulder.

Akira barely quirked up the corner of his mouth in response, but Kindaichi, as he always had, seemed infinitely pleased by such a small action. 

_ Idiot _ , Akira thought, though it was with no small amount of fondness.

When everyone was set up, the professor introduced him, and then explained the task for today. They'd be doing a nude drawing with charcoal. Akira could pose how he liked, but after the warm-up poses, he had to maintain whatever stance he took for the next few hours. There was a stool too, if he wished to sit. (He did.)

Akira slid his robe off, and without even being prompted, Kindaichi held out a hand. "I can hang that over there for you, if you like," he offered, gesturing at one of the pegs. He refused to look at Akira, amusingly enough.

"Mm, please." Akira handed it off, purposely letting their fingers graze each other, watching as Kindaichi's face colored even deeper at the contact. He kept his face carefully blank; it wouldn't do for Kindaichi to figure out he was being teased. Not so early in the game. 

He settled back into his seat.

/////

"Do you have a mat, Kibito-san?" Akira asked, as the warm-up sketches ended.

The professor tilted her head, thinking. "Yes, I think we do. Miura-kun, there should be a yoga mat in the cabinet there-- yes, that one."

One of the other students handed Akira the mat, a worn, but fairly clean-looking one. though maybe the stains just weren't as visible against the gray foam. He thanked the girl, watched her cheek dimple as she smiled.

She was pretty cute, but Akira didn't like her. Mostly because earlier, she'd kept chirping compliments and idle chat at Kindaichi, and he suspected she was crushing on him.

So Akira was petty. So what.

He unrolled the mat onto the floor. He plopped down on it, and then twisted to face the professor. "Do you want me to drape some of the fabrics on the stool before I lean on it?"

"Hm…" She nodded. "Please."

He reached for one of the bolts of fabric, a small burgundy square about the length of his forearm, and then spread it out over the seat of the stool. Next, he shifted his position, folding one leg underneath him, and propping up his other knee. His arms, he folded across the stool, using it to pillow his head. "Is this all right?"

The professor and the students had him adjust a little more so the composition (or whatever it was they were talking about amongst themselves with their fancy art jargon) was better, and then Kibito-san gave the signal for them to start drawing, so they did.

Akira considered striking up a conversation with Kindaichi now that there wasn't any rush with time, but none of the thoughts bouncing around his skull ever made it to his tongue, much less out his mouth. None of them were important, and anyway, Kindaichi had always been the better one at idle chat, between the two of them.

Really, if Akira just waited, Kindaichi would probably start a conversation on his own, so there was really no point in Akira wasting his breath right now.

Instead, he decided to use the time to observe Kindaichi, to really drink in all the ways he was different. Kindaichi was deeply focused on his work; he wouldn't be bothered by Akira's staring. 

For one thing, he was broader than he'd been in high school. The shirt he was wearing today was a favorite of his, one Akira recognized from all the years they'd known each other. It used to fit him fine, a little loosely even. Now, his shoulders strained at the seams and the sleeves hugged his arms. It was a nice image.

It would probably be nicer without the shirt, but. Akira was getting ahead of himself.

Kindaichi probably grew too. Standing beside him earlier, Akira was fairly certain the height difference had been more pronounced than it had been.

He'd had also gotten his ears pierced, one on each lobe. His earrings of choice seemed to be a simple pair of silver studs. How long had he had them? Akira couldn't remember Kindaichi ever mentioning them before, so it likely happened after they'd become somewhat estranged.

Akira may not have been the best friend ever-- he was lazy and spoiled, and he talked less than he listened-- but he wasn't so thoughtless that he'd have tuned something like that out. Especially not from Kindaichi.

And the haircut… he can't imagine what might have convinced Kindaichi to finally do away with the gel. Maybe college was just too busy or draining for him to bother, but Akira doubted it somehow. Kindaichi had never shied away from extra effort, not like Akira did.

But the physical changes were nothing compared to the way he carried himself. Kindaichi had grown into himself so much. 

Where before, he'd been easy to work up, hesitant to be heard too loudly or to stand out too much (though he hadn't been a shrinking violet, at least)-- now, he was comfortable in his own skin, so undeniably at ease with who he was and what he did.

"Kuni-- uh." Kindaichi cut himself off, apparently startled to find Akira's eyes already on him, regarding him so carefully as they regarded everything else they deemed worthy.

Akira raised an eyebrow.

A beat passed, but ultimately, Kindaichi chose not to explain himself. "So... how long have you been in Tokyo?"

"Not sure. Somewhere around a month?" Akira would normally have shrugged rather than answer, but he didn't want to disrupt his pose too much. He was a professional, after all. Besides, he'd watched Kindaichi work on art for hours upon hours before, even with a still reference. Art was hard. He could at least avoid making it harder.

"We should catch up some time," Kindaichi said.

"Sure. I'm free this weekend if you want."

Kindaichi grinned.

/////

Akira came to with a warm palm settled on his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Kunimi.  _ Kunimi _ ."

He let his eyes flutter shut again. "Mm. Awake 'lready."

"No, you're not," Kindaichi chuckled, nudging him again. "You're trying to go back to napping. I know you. Come on, get up. The class is over."

Akira grumbled something impolite, but he did raise his head and glance around the classroom. Kindaichi hadn't lied; most everyone had gone, including the professor. The easels and chairs had been put away, and the blinds at the windows drawn shut against the late afternoon light. 

Kindaichi snorted and got to his feet, holding out a hand to Akira. "Come on, Kunimi. You can nap in my dorm if you want so you don't have to commute just yet, but you really shouldn't just stay on the floor here."

Blinking up at Kindaichi's hands-- the fingers no longer so calloused as they used to be, the dark smudges of charcoal on the pads of his index and middle fingers… Akira had to wonder if it could really be so simple, falling back into their friendship. After all the changes time had wrought, after all the gaps that had grown between them, was it really just like this? They met again and without hesitation, Kindaichi accepted him, went back into the role of taking care of Akira and reading him like he's not the blank page others always see, but instead the front page of the day's newspaper?

Was that really all?

"Do you mean it?" Akira asked, the words slipping out in a single breath.

Kindaichi didn't hesitate. "Why wouldn't I?" His brow furrowed. "You don't have to, if you don't want to," he said. "But--"

"Shut up already." Akira took his hand.  _ So warm.  _ "I'll come."

Kindaichi's smile was softer than it had any right to be.

/////

"You should, uh, probably get into your clothes again first though."

"Ehhh. You don't like me like this?"

"No, I-- wait, it's not that you're not--  _ Kunimi stop laughing _ . I can't believe I forgot what a little shit you are."

"I mean… I'm not that little."

"Kunimi! You spent way too much time with Matsukawa-san and Hanamaki-san."

"Eh."

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr and twitter @theauthorish


End file.
